


My little Heathen.

by AFurryBunny



Category: DCU (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, dark themes, he's just not a good guy, joker is a terrible person, slight non-con, there's a cat involved, you're a baddass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFurryBunny/pseuds/AFurryBunny
Summary: The first time you meet the Joker you’re terrified of him and you’d, literally, rather be anywhere else. He takes a particular interest in you… He really wants you to be his ‘friend.’ He wants you to deliver something for Harley Quinn while in Belle Reve Penitentiary. A whole bunch of stuff happens and, the king and queen of Gotham are separated again after Amanda Waller orders an attack on their getaway chopper. He returns to Gotham to lick his wounds before attempting to set Harley free again. However, he runs into you and the second time he sees you, you become all the more compelling to him. The more he’s fascinated by you, the more he wants you…





	1. In the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I suck proverbial ass at summaries. It’s set during and after the events of Suicide Squad. It includes the Joker’s point of view as well. So, to business! Also, the Joker is a sick, twisted and psychotic little manipulative sadist. Just how he should be.

Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of a bland, grey concrete ceiling and even worse walls. The paint was peeling off and the smell of mould was overbearing. You swung your legs over the edge of your creaky single bed and stretched your arms out above you. The mattress was not all that comfortable either. It was the cackle of the buzzing morning alarm that woke you to alert you that your day at work has begun. You release a heavy sigh and get up to get ready for a day of insults and threats thrown at you by the inmates of Belle Reve Penitentiary. They were the worst of the worst and they all had it out for you for some reason. You learned it was better to ignore them and continue with your day as usual. There was one inmate whom you tolerated and hell, maybe even liked. You got up from your bed and exchanged your sleepwear for your work gear. You brushed your (hair colour) locks into a neat ponytail and slipped on your work boots. You stuffed the switchblade, your father gave you before you left for BRP, into one of the boot straps and made your way to the cafeteria for breakfast. 

After a hearty breakfast of Lucky Charms and a tall glass of orange juice, you made your way to your post. You could see the charismatic blonde swinging on the bars… again. She had twisted up her penitentiary attire and used it as a makeshift acrobat's swing. You rolled your eyes at the sociopathic airhead. Yet, you couldn't help but snicker at her creativity and shook your head. She was definitely your favourite inmate regardless of the fact that she sent five of your comrades to the hospital. There were some days where you snuck her what little treats you could from the outside without getting caught. The two of you had an understanding of sorts. You didn't point your weapons at her and she didn't try to hurt you through the bars or throw insults at you.   
At the sight of your approach her eyes lit up and she swung down from her makeshift perch. She knew you enjoyed her acrobatic stunts and performed a few for you whilst she made her way down. You ordered the men below you to allow you within a close perimeter of her enclosure. They gave you looks that suggested they thought you were just as insane as the inmate behind bars. Still, they did as you asked and soon you were an arm's distance away from the female nutjob. 

"Mornin' sugar." She greeted with a grin, "You got something for me today?"  
"Not today, I'm afraid." You answered, your lips pursed to the side.  
Your heart sank when her face fell. She reminded you of a disappointed child in that moment and it intensified your guilt. You made a mental note to bring her something the next time you visited. Your eyes fell to the floor and you chewed your bottom lip. The awkward silence slowly started to get to you.   
"It's ok, sugar." She assured you.  
Your face whipped upward and the mischievous look on her face sent an uneasy feeling through you. It was something about those piercing blue-green eyes. It was as if she could see into your soul. Your unease did not go unnoticed and she giggled, taking a step forward so that she was pressed up against the bars. Her hands on either side of her head.   
"Come play with me?" She crooned, "I'm bored and you didn't bring me anything. I'm bored so come play with me. I won't hurt you, I promise."   
Wait, was she purring?  
"No." You said with a scoff, "I know how you ‘play' with people. None of it looks pretty. I swear, I'll remember to bring you something tomorrow. Maybe one of those tiny cupcakes you like so much."  
"Ooh, I do love those little cupcakes." She quipped, "The ones with colourful sprinkles and fruit flavoured frosting. You're good to me. I'll remember that."  
With that, she giggled and winked at you before returning to her perch. You huffed in amusement and turned on your heel when you almost collided with your captain.  
"(Your last name)." He huffed with a raised brow, "What are you doing so close to this woman? You know she could break your skinny little neck just by reaching through the bars. You're my responsibility, soldier, and it's my job to keep you breathing until the day you die. So, I'd appreciate if you didn't give me heart palpitations every time you're in here."  
You clenched your jaw but offered a respectful ‘yessir' and a brisk nod. The man was undoubtedly an asshat that loved the sound of his own voice. He called himself sarcastic and witty but you called him a pure-blooded jackass. You didn't like how he provoked and then hurt the inmates. You thought he was some sleazy backwoods illiterate that had nothing better to do with his time. He stood aside to let you exit the fenced off area. He grabbed your wrist before you were on the other side completely.   
"I'm going gambling on Friday night. I see you hardly go out so I thought you'd like to come to the club with me." He propositioned you with a look on his face you really didn't like, "A girl like you should get out more."  
You didn't like him. You really didn't like him… but, he was your captain and you'd never hear the end of it if you turned him down. You tried your hardest not to grimace at the sight of his crooked grin. His breath smelled a little like tuna salad.   
"Sure, what's the harm in it?" You agreed with a very fake smile. 

It was Friday night and you had been through quite an interesting three days. A woman by the name of, Amanda Waller and her troupe of special agents visited Belle Reve Penitentiary. They consulted with only four of the inmates. They were, Floyd Lawton, Waylon Jones, Chato Santana and Harleen Quinzel. You had no idea why and you honestly didn't want to know. In what free time you had you bought yourself a whole new outfit for your unwanted date. You weren't very well going out in your work gear. You dressed in the white tank top, baggy teal cropped top, shredded jeans and a sweet pair of white ballet flats. You braided your hair to the side and decided on a smoky eye. It made your (eye colour) orbs stand out in a subtle yet dramatic way. The only bold item was the matte burgundy lipstick you wore as a finishing touch. To be honest you looked quite the vision when you studied yourself in the mirror. You were sure to get some attention from someone else other than the incredibly unattractive captain. Once you were sure you looked ok you made your way to the casino where you would meet your date.   
Your captain waited for you at the entrance with his mouth slightly open. You must have looked better than you imagined because he hollered and whistled low.   
"Damn girl!" He chided, "You know how to clean up nice. Shit goddamn!"

Goddamn shit. You thought wickedly to yourself. You flinched when his arm snaked around your shoulders and led you into the casino. It looked very private and dingy. The walls were a dark purple and there was cheap suede furniture in two different corners where men were practically dry humping painted hookers. There was a bar where you guessed were convicts ordering drinks and snarling at you both. At the one end, there was a Russian roulette table, three slot machines, a Poker table and Blackjack. The captain led you to where a small crowd of people gathered around Blackjack. He started his filthy gambling the second he sat down. What irritated you was that he wasn't even winning and he'd kept you on a tight leash. You found yourself wishing the night was over soon. There was only so much of him you could take.   
That was until four men grabbed you both by the shoulders and dragged you out of the room. They looked like they could shoot someone in an alley and not bat an eye. They placed you down on a chair quite roughly and your captain next to you. One of them donned a butcher's apron and started chopping away at an unknown carcas. Every thump of the cleaver against flesh and bone sent shivers down your spine. Your captain began asking questions and sputtering words you couldn't hear over the sound of your heart racing. You knew he would get the two of you into deeper trouble. You were joined by another, less muscular man. He stood in front of you.   
"Dude, this is real." He murmured in annoyance, "I had to stop all of these guys from burning down your house with your kids in it." He trailed off and turned his attention to you with a fierce look in his black eyes, "But you lucky."  
Still, your captain sputtered and stammered. You were joined by another who looked much different to the rest. He was tall and dressed in a clean-cut suit. His presence would have been comical if you weren't afraid of getting plugged by one of the others. You watched as he ignored your captain and exchanged hands with the less muscular man from before. Your brow furrowed as you studied what was in the package. It looked like a balance and a name. That was when you realised it was money. It was then that you knew you were both mortally fucked.   
Yet, of course, there was one more. You heard him approach from his low and husky voice from behind. He placed his hands on your captain's shoulders and began to massage him. 

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." He said, running his hands over the captain's arms and slapping him hard enough to make the tough man jump, "All this chit chat's gonna get ya hurt."   
His attention then turned to you. He was dressed in an open, gold blazer that revealed his black tattoos and toned muscle and an open necktie. He had sickly pale skin and luminous green hair slicked back. His white skin highlighted his high cheekbones and gleaming cobalt eyes. He got close to you and began to purr. His too-close proximity with the sound of his rough purr made your hair stand on end. He then stood before you both and held out his hand to the captain. There was a golden ruby ring on his little finger that the captain kissed with a shrug. He then held out the same hand to you with a grin. There was no way in hell you were going to kiss something the captain's lips touched.   
"What the shit?" You hissed with a disgusted look on your face, "I don't think so."   
His grin faltered and a sinister look replaced it. The dark expression on his face made you regret your decision. Still, if you were going down it wouldn't be without a fight. So, you thought you would soften the blow.   
"I have no idea where his mouth has been. I'm not kissing that." You insisted.   
The grin returned to the green-haired man's face and he straddled your lap with that same rough purr.   
"I want you to be my friend." He cooed with his face mere inches from yours, "I want you to do something for me."   
He reached up his hand to your throat and his long fingers wrapped around your neck. He squeezed tight enough to make you cough and got to his feet, taking you with him. He moved your head to one side so that his lips brushed against your ear.   
"Don't disappoint me." He jeered with a growl before dropping you.


	2. In the Flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this is where my story gets a little more interesting.

Joker's POV

The blood rushed to his head as they neared the town in which the Penitentiary they kept his Harley. It was surrounded by a swamp and he had to hold his breath to ward off the smell. His head was in a haze as he thought about the things he would do to anyone who got in his way. It was messy fantasy after messy fantasy and each one brought a smile to his face. The thought of anarchy within another city sent delightful shivers up and down his spine. Harley was smitten with him regardless of how annoyed he got with her. He would have left her if he didn't feel obliged to rescue the former psychiatrist. Besides, it was good to have someone who adored him in a world that wanted his head on a plate. The thought made him chuckle to himself. There was nowhere that could keep him for long and he loved it. The rush of the escape, the sounds of screams and gunfire echoing in his ears and the scent of blood filling his nose. There was nothing better in the world to him than wreaking havoc. To him it was his life's purpose, his destiny, to watch the world burn and crumble around him in manic laughter, blood and pain. 

His thoughts were interrupted when the car stopped in front of a sleazy-looking casino. It made him think of a place prone to thugs and cutthroats without honour. In short, it was his kind of place. When he walked in he felt as though he could tip just one of them over the edge to start a brutal fight. He grinned as they walked passed the dangerous men at the bar. All he had to do was hit one of them over the head and blame it on another. He stopped and held his cane in position when, at the gambling section, there was a cry of protest and two people were dragged into the back room where he would ‘convince' them to do him a favour. A man he knew as the captain of the guard and a woman he hadn't seen before. He sighed and gave his cane to one of his henchmen. He would have to have fun with those men some other time. He shuffled his feet in disappointment towards the backroom. There was no rush. They were there for him so he could all the damn time he wanted.   
He heard the nervous stuttering and stammering of a condemned man from a few feet already. He rolled his eyes at the confused soul.   
"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." He said, running his hands over the captain's arms and slapping him hard enough to make the tough man jump, "All this chit chat's gonna get ya hurt."  
He got a tingle at the captain's frightened response. He loved when his victims squirmed in fear of his ‘overbearing' personality. Fear was like candy to him and boy did he have a sweet tooth. He made his way to the woman beside the captain. He liked the way she smelled as he got close. A sweet, light floral scent that made him purr.   
Oh yes, a very strong sweet tooth indeed. 

He demanded respect from the lowlife in front of him and held out his hand for the captain to kiss his favourite ring. Like the parasitic human being he was, he obliged without question. He then shifted his attention to the woman and did the same. He expected her to show the same amount of submission as her counterpart. However, there was a defiant look on her face and she blatantly refused. He wasn't accustomed to defiance and he didn't like how it felt. In just a few seconds he pictured how she would look drowned in a vat of toxic chemicals. Or how much a nasty gash on her throat would bleed from one of his blades. Yet he couldn't bring himself to kill her for reasons unknown. Her voice brought him from his murderous fantasies. So, she had a sense of humour and she was an audacious girl. He could work with that. He thought it would be fun to show her how much he didn't tolerate overconfidence.   
He straddled her lap with a grin and coaxed her into rather being on his relatively better side. He took her throat in his hand and squeezed as tight as he could. He could feel her heart thump against his fingers. He felt how her heart began to race as she struggled to breathe and God it felt so good. He got to his feet and took her with him. He nuzzled his face against her. The smell of her perfume more prominent. He made sure she knew that failure was not an option when he gave an order. He inhaled her scent a second time for memory before dropping her again. He chuckled at the sound of her coughing and gasping for air. The sound of it was like a soothing song to him. The sight of her on her knees and clutching at her neck gave him created a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't understand what he felt for the stranger but he knew then that she would be just as fun to play with as the bat. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The events of the night before still played in your head. The soul-piercing cobalt eyes that saw right through you. His face, with his high cheekbones and chiselled jaw, and its dark expression haunted your dreams. There were finger-shaped bruises forming on your neck and it hurt to swallow. Even your voice sounded a little husky when you spoke. You wore a scarf to hide the bruises and your comrades thought you had come down with something by the sound of your voice. Your captain summoned you the next morning and instructed that you keep your encounter quiet. Your breath hitched when you learned that the green-haired sadist was The Joker. You had only heard of the things he had done, from others. You never thought you would meet him in person. You knew you were lucky when he let both you and the captain go with simple instructions. All you had to do was give Harley her iPhone back. It seemed simple enough. However, when you got to her cell she was nowhere to be seen. You asked one of the other guards and they told you that Amanda Waller's men took her. You had to sprint to keep up with them before they left. They had, Harley strapped down pretty tight.   
"Oh, hey sugar!" She greeted a little too enthusiastically, "What you got there?"  
"A gift from a mutual friend." You grumbled under your breath as you slipped the iPhone into her hand.  
She looked at the screen of the iPhone and began to giggle to herself. You watched as they rolled her away. You caught a glimpse of the message he sent her in your peripheral view. ‘I'm coming to get you.' It said.

There was no way in hell you were going to be there when he did. One encounter with the Joker was quite enough for a lifetime.   
You packed what little you brought with you into a duffle bag as well as two pistols just in case you had a run-in with the sociopath. You had called a cab twenty minutes ago and hoped to whatever God there was that it got there before he did. You laid your work gear out onto the bed and almost sprinted out of Belle Reve Penitentiary. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the cab pulled up at the entrance. You explained to the security that the captain had given you some time off since Harley and the others were no longer there. They bought the lie and soon you were on your way home in the back of a bright yellow and black taxi. You felt a wave of guilt seep over you after not warning the others of his arrival. How many lives you would have saved if you just warned them. You turned your eyes to the outside and watched whatever passed by. There was a strange black van with the symbol of a panda on it. You hadn't seen anything like it before and turned your head to watch as it drove in the direction you came from. The thought sent shivers up and down your spine. The idea of that being the Joker, missing him by mere minutes, made you shudder. You turned your head back around and tried your best not to think about that disturbing barbarian. You tilted your head back against the seat and closed your eyes. Yet you could still see that twisted grin in the back of your mind. 

You must have fallen asleep in the cab because the driver snapped his fingers in front of your face. You grabbed his wrist from fright and twisted it into a most painful position. Once you realised you were not in danger, with help from the desperate pleas of the driver on his knees, you let him go with a hurried apology. You paid the man extra for the pain you put him through and made your way up to your apartment. It wasn't in the best part of Gotham but, it wasn't in the worst part either. You lugged your duffle bag up the flight of stairs and greeted your landlord as you passed. Your rent was always on time whether you were home or not so there was no animosity between you two. You unlocked the door to the safest place you knew. You were greeted by one of your neighbour's cats on your kitchen counter. A sweet, fat cat with a beautiful tortoiseshell coat that kept you company when you needed it. It was as if she knew you were coming home. You placed your duffle bag onto your queen-size bed and coaxed the cat to follow you. You knew you shouldn't but you opened a can of tuna and placed it into a small bowl. You were partial to the reason that cat was overweight. You were offered grateful, and admittedly quite loud, meows before she tucked in. You fixed yourself some cheesy noodles and littered it with a generous amount of bacon before settling down on the couch to eat it. The cat followed close behind in hope that you would share whatever was in your bowl. You flicked on the T.V to break the sullen silence of your apartment. What was on the news chilled you to the bone. The Joker had broken into Belle Reve Penitentiary and he used explosives, firearms and something called Joker's Gas. Every one of the victims had a stretched smile and wide eyes. They looked as though they, literally, laughed themselves to death. The most chilling aspect was that you knew some of those they had identified. You knew that you were so close to being one of them.


	3. Not again...

Joker's POV

His plan went off without a hitch. The people were as gullible as he'd predicted they would be. They threw gas bombs throughout the front of the building and put their machine guns to good use. He watched as the guards laughed uncontrollably as they tried to defend themselves but to no avail. A siren went off to warn the precinct of their arrival. He did always love an introduction. He thought that it made for good showmanship. He made his way to the chemistry labs where the captain of the guard said that he would get the information he needed. The brown nosed weasel told him all about the head scientist and where his wife lived. The scientist locked himself in his little glass lab. He took much pleasure in pressing the screen of his iPad against the glass wall that separated them. On it was the scientist's wife undergoing a series of torture. His henchman was just about to carve out a piece of her face. He grinned as the woman pleaded for her husband to do whatever they said to stop the pain. The scientist fumbled to locate them via the tracker placed in each inmate's neck. The frightened maven said that they were somewhere in Midway City. 

He ordered two other soldiers to fly the chopper to where Harley and the others were. It seemed to him that she was far more trouble than she was worth but he had grown fond of her. He could say she was the one person he trusted completely. She was like the puppy he'd never had as a child. Regardless of how much he hit her, tried to kill her and belittled her she was unwavering to her devotion. That was as far as his affection went though. He knew he would never love her the way she loved him. Still, there was a chance she could die that night. If anything was going to end her it would be him and nothing else. As the chopper reached Midway City he saw electric lights smack dab in the middle. His eyes were transfixed on the show of lights and smiled to himself. He wondered what would happen if he'd dropped one of the soldiers into the mix of it all. He didn't need both of them and he was anxious. One of the soldiers called from behind him as if on cue and informed him that they were close. He waltzed over to the machine gun and opened fire at the rooftop where Harley was apparently situated. He spot her white, blue and pink hair and contacted the scientist to disarm the explosive tracker in her neck. Once he was successful, Harley came out of her hiding spot and made her way to the hovering chopper. He threw down a rope for her to catch as she leapt from the rooftop. He finally got his, Harley back where she belonged. He helped her up as she climbed the rope up into the chopper. 

"Puddin'!" She chimed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in excitement, "You got all dressed up for me?"  
He could do without the cute nickname and refrained from grunting in displeasure. He remembered why he treated her the way he did. She was a bit of an airhead and her daffy personality was a bit much to handle. He tried his hardest not to shove her out of the chopper and smiled back at her instead. She was smitten with him and it made him feel awkward.   
That was until he caught sight of the missile headed their way. He used it as an excuse to push her out of the chopper. He grinned and leapt from the chopper at the last split second. The force of the explosion forced him further than he should have gone and, after sliding and rolling against loose stone and roof shingles, he hung over the edge of the rooftop. There was a deafening ringing in his ears and his head spun. It made him feel sick and he had to keep from spewing all over himself. He used what strength he had left to pull himself up to safety. He waited for the ringing and the spinning to stop before he looked around to study his surroundings. The backs of his calves were burnt and a piece of metal was lodged into his left ribcage. He had scrapes as well as bruises and no, Harley Quinn to show for it. He was pissed that all his efforts were for nothing. He cussed every profanity he could think of and tried to get to his feet. He was sure there were broken or fractured bones as well. He hissed in pain and shuffled his way to the exit. He knew he had to settle for a plan B but not until he was healed. He made it from the building with great difficulty and had to clench his jaw from the excruciating pain that shot throughout his body. The city was deserted and littered with garbage and newspaper. The rain hadn't made anything better either. It all looked post-apocalyptic and he would have enjoyed the scenery if he wasn't so focused on the agony. He shuffled along the street to find a functioning car he could use. The sooner he got out of there the better. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
You had to go out to get some groceries. You learned that the neighbour with her twenty-something cats was evicted but the fat tortoiseshell stuck around the building to wait for you. So, technically that cat was yours by default. You went to get proper cat food and a few other things for yourself. Of course this was some time at night and of course, it started raining. You were annoyed already and thought to yourself that it couldn't get any worse. The electricity was out so you had to find your way back home in darkness. There were few people on the streets. They were the smart ones. No one went out at night in Gotham especially when there was no light other than the cars that drove by on occasion. You grumbled under your breath as you tried to get out of the pouring rain. Yet the heavens would not cut you any slack as some douchebag sped through a puddle of water and splattered it all over you.   
"Yeah, well, fuck you too buddy!" You called out after them in rage.   
You grunted as the paper bags that held your bought items began to rip from the sogginess. Not only were you struggling to navigate your way home but you tried to stop the contents from spilling out onto the floor. It just really wasn't your night. To top it off some damaged car stopped not so far from you. You watched as a male figure stumbled out of it. You couldn't see much in the dark but his silhouette made its way toward you. You were paralysed by both fear and curiosity and stood in watch as he neared you. He tripped over his own feet and caught hold of your shoulder before hitting the ground. Your eyes widened as you caught a glimpse of green hair highlighted by the moonlight.   
"Hello there, kitten." He purred with a smirk, "Although, you look like a drowned rat."

You were wrong. Your night could get a whole lot worse. The Joker didn't stop beside you on purpose. The car he used ran out of juice and you were at the wrong place at the most inconvenient time. Even though he was the definition of pure evil and you would have preferred him dead in a ditch you helped him back to your place. You helped him to your bedroom before placing your groceries in the kitchen. You used the torchlight on your phone to locate the candles you used in case of an outage. Once there was a moderate amount of light you found the Joker passed out on your bed. He looked in really bad shape. The expensive-looking suit he wore was torn to shreds, he had angry scrapes and bruises and the backs of his legs were scorched. He looked like he was out cold and you were sure he wouldn't mind the TLC. You searched for the first aid kit and got to work on his wounds. He fascinated you the way a monster like him still got hurt and bled just like everyone else. Once you were done with him you made your way to the couch. You were tired and just wanted the night to be over. 

You woke to the sight of your pistol pointed at you. You looked up from the barrel and found the Joker grinning at you, the tortoiseshell cat at his feet and meowing at him. You knew you should have seen this coming from a mile away.   
"Good morning, sugar bumps." He crooned, "Sleep well? So sweet is the world of dreams. Of course, I don't dream and I do whatever I imagine so that doesn't pertain to me. Tell me something, my friend. You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"  
"What does that even mean?" You asked, your brow creasing into a very confused frown, "I thought you were talking about dreams."  
"I don't know. I just like the way it sounds." He answered with a shrug.  
He laughed at his own joke but you were not amused. He had a loaded gun in his hand and looked like a patched up manic bum. He noticed you weren't laughing with him and forced you to stare down the barrel for the second time that morning. His sudden laughter frightened away the cat. The expression on his face was unreadable but you knew that if you moved he would empty those bullets in a heartbeat.   
"If you're going to kill me then just do it already." You growled in frustration, "Stop pussyfooting around it."  
"Well, now that's just rude! Someone should teach you some manners about how you treat house guests." He said with a scowl, "I'd be happy to oblige but I have places to be, people to torture, chaos to create in the city. Don't forget about me, kitten. I sure won't forget about you."  
He tucked the pistol into the belt of his pants and grabbed a hold of your throat for the second time. Only, it wasn't as tight as before and he planted a hard kiss on your forehead. He knocked the sensitive nerve beneath the chin.  
Then there was darkness.


	4. To new Beginnings.

It had been a month and a bit since you last saw or heard anything of the Joker. It seemed he had calmed down from his malicious endeavours. Of course, you knew better. From the shape he was in the last time you met you bet he was just resting. It was the calm before the massive shit storm. They had fixed Belle Reve Penitentiary and there were all new guards. You, however, did not return to your old job. You didn't think it was the right thing to do after you had abandoned your fellow comrades instead of warning them of the Joker's plans. You thought it wasn't right for you to go back just for it to happen all over again. Harley Quinn and the others were back where they belonged. No doubt the Joker would break her out of there again and cause the same amount of damage, if not more, as before. In its place, you got a job working as a barmaid for, Angelo Beretti. He was head of the mobster family. You didn't mind working for him. It was an honest job for a dishonest yet honourable man. He told you during your interview that there would be men who would hit on you. Dangerous men. So he needed you to be strong enough to defend yourself from them. You didn't mind that either. You worked with dangerous men every day in your previous job. Still, you worked out every day and ate healthy until Angelo thought you were ready to work for him. He liked you because you caused no trouble for him. He had also run a pizza hut but he thought you would do better as a barmaid than a waitress. 

There you were, scrubbing down the bar before opening in a loose, black one shoulder dress and black strappy heels. The only makeup you wore every night was a dramatic eyeliner and raspberry red lipstick. Your hair would either be in a loose finger wave or side braid. It was all suitable for the line of work you were in. You were just thinking of the scum that would waltz in there when your boss and his goons made their way into the club. You hadn't meant to direct it at them but it was their fault for walking in at the wrong time. It brought a devious smirk to your red lips.  
"Well, well don't you look beautiful as ever?" Angelo teased, making his way to the bar, "You're in early, (your name). If you keep this up then I'm gonna have to pay you overtime. Then again, you stay in later than you should so I might as well just give you a raise anyways."  
"Don't make promises you can't keep, boss." You quipped, fixing him his favourite drink and sliding it to him.   
"I meant it, angel." He continued, "I may be a crime boss but I ain't a miser. You make me good money and you work hard. I appreciate hard work and good money. What do you say I bump it up to sixty dollars an hour instead of forty? Keep all of your tips instead of half?"   
"I think you're drunk already but I won't argue."   
Angelo laughed at your remark and urged the manager of the club to make a note of the changes. The manager was a different story on his own. He didn't like how fond, Angelo Beretti was of you. He had also tried his luck with you time after time and his act grew old fast. You bet that if you mentioned something to, Angelo that he would ‘take care' of the persistent man for you in a heartbeat. You also had an inkling that the head of the Beretti Crime Family had a thing for you as well. Not that you minded if it meant getting a bigger paygrade. Just as long as he kept his hands to himself then your relationship would continue to be a good one. 

Two hours had passed and no one else entered the club. Usually, it would have been almost packed by eight o'clock but you had spent your time watching your boss laugh with the manager and his goons. You fixed them drinks and brought it to them whenever they requested and snickered at the playful insults, Angelo threw at the manager. Some of them were rough and you loved it. They were Italian so they had a good raunchy sense of humour when they were tipsy. Almost the entire bottle of scotch was finished when he walked in with his goons. You thought you were free of him in his long absence. You guessed you should have known better when you worked for one of the biggest and baddest, and still living mind you, crime bosses. You should have known that Angelo Beretti had affiliations with the Joker. Your good mood faltered into nothing when those cobalt eyes fell on you. Even though you cast your eyes downward you could still feel him watching you. It sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. Although it explained why there were no people filling the club. Your boss usually closed it to the public when he had ‘business' to attend to. He preferred it to the pizza hut. It was more private and secluded from prying eyes. You were ripped from your anxious thoughts with a fright when Angelo called out your name. You dragged your gaze in his direction and forced a smile. You tried your best to ignore the green haired maniac beside him.   
"Mister J. here says he knows you." He said with a furrowed brow, "You know him?"  
Well shit. You thought. There was no point in lying when he would just figure it out.   
"Yeah," you stammered, "yes, boss, I've met him a couple times."   
"He says you helped him with a problem he had. Is that true?" Angelo asked.   
"Wh-which time?" You stuttered with a nervous laugh.   
Angelo's sudden loud laughter made you flinch with fright and he smacked the Joker on the shoulder. He too had a wide grin on his face and it made you feel all the more uneasy. He then ordered you to fix the Joker a drink before continuing with his meeting. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief once the Joker's attention shifted from you to, Angelo Beretti and did as you were instructed. There was no way in hell you were going to piss off either one of them. 

You brought, Mister J. his drink with as much confidence as you could muster. Every step toward him felt like walking on glass. It could have been how long you had been standing in one place or it could have been an indirect warning sign. Either way, you knew you would rather have worked as a waitress at the pizza hut. At least that way you wouldn't have had this run-in with the pasty white lunatic. You placed his whisky on the rocks in front of him. Without looking at you, he grabbed your wrist before you could return to the safety of your post. His grip was so hard that you began to lose feeling in your hand. You bit down on the inside of your lip from the pain. He then pulled you toward him so suddenly that you almost lost your footing.   
"Can't leave without your tip… now can you, kitten?" He crooned, putting a generous hundred dollar note in your hand before letting go with a smug smirk.   
You muttered a relieved, ‘thank you' before turning on your heel and damn near ran to the bar. You hadn't noticed how much he had given you until you examined your wrist. It still throbbed from how tight he held you but you couldn't argue with the crisp hundred in your hand. He was a sociopath but at least he was a generous one. You hoped that there was no need of you for the rest of the night. You could not handle another one of those looks. However, the odds weren't in your favour and you were summoned for a round of drinks once again.

You placed the full glasses on a silver tray and brought them to their respective owners. You took back the empty glasses and placed them on the tray. You knew you were there longer than you should have been. You knew because those eyes watched your every move and it put you on edge. You were reckless enough to look him in the eye and your breath hitched in your throat. There was a flash of white before you turned on your heel to return to the bar. When you placed the tray with empty glasses onto a countertop you noticed another hundred dollar bill. It made you wonder just how much the Joker had on him. You thought that if he kept the hundred dollar bills flowing that your fear could subside just a little. You placed the money in your bag and put the glasses in hot water. There was something that occurred to you that hadn't a few seconds ago. When you looked him in the eye there was something else besides malice and pure, cold-blooded hatred. You could only describe the emotion as either desire or fervour.


	5. Something's not right.

Joker's POV

He was told that his injuries were too severe to do anything wild for a long time. That he should wait and get some well-needed rest. In order for a quick recovery, he had to sit around and do nothing. That irritated him so he pulled out the pistol he had stolen from you and shot the kidnapped doctor between the eyes. He was not one to do as he was told. He hated when someone ordered him around even if it was a qualified professional. Apparently the best in Gotham according to, Bob. The best just wasn't good enough. The girl did a better job of tending to him and she wasn't even a doctor of any sort. Well, that he knew of. The thought of her made him study her hot pistol in his hand. His eyes scanned the surface of the weapon and the tips of his fingers stroked it as though it was a fragile, living being. There was not a curve that missed his eye. He even held it up to the light to be sure. He seemed to be transfixed by something so beautiful yet so devilishly dangerous. He found it in a duffle bag underneath the bed with a lot of ammunition. He remembered laughing at the common hiding place as he loaded it. His intention was to put a bullet in her head and make his way back. To him, she was no longer useful and those who had overridden their usefulness got a beautiful painting done by Joker wherever they were standing, sitting, kneeling or lying. 

However, he had his finger on the trigger but he could not bring himself to squeeze it. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully made him feel a deep fondness for her. Which was impractical and illogical since it was just the second time he had seen her. It frustrated him and he tried thinking murderous thoughts. Every method he thought of failed and it irked him to the bone. It got to the point where he whined in protest. He wanted to kill her, he really did, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. The ordeal in its entirety was highly annoying and incredibly overrated. To top it all off she had a stupid fat cat that wouldn't leave him alone. He held up the pistol to the curious feline and pressed his finger on the trigger. Yet she had woken up and his attention shifted to her before he could finish. The memory of it all gave him a headache.   
"You know what, doc? I think you might be right." He grumbled to the doctor's corpse. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regardless of how much he disagreed with the good doctor, he refrained from creating chaos for as long as his body needed. Although, that did not mean he didn't kill a few people and left them for dearest batsy to find. Toying with that flying mouse was the only amusement he could handle in his state. The pain agitated him and it made the deaths of those innocent people much worse than usual. He loathed not doing what he wanted whenever he wanted. Bob convinced him that it was the best decision for himself. What did he know? He was a damn goon he hired to take care of business the Joker couldn't do himself. Or rather, didn't want to do himself. The man was as dumb as pig shit but he did his job well. It was a full month before he ‘got back on his feet.' He had never been happier than to run around and fool the innocent victim with his acid flower. He cackled at their frightened expressions and shivered in delight at their screams in terror as it melted away their skin. He would have skipped down the street if it didn't make him look like a pansy. It put him in the mood for some drinks or some pizza. Whichever one came first. He also needed more gunmen if he wanted to break, Harley out again. Belle Reve Penitentiary had doubled on their security because of the last time he paid them a visit. He needed an inside man, or woman, and he knew just the fellow who could help him. 

He had, Bob, make a phone call to, Angelo Beretti to warn them about his little visit. It was ironic to him how all other crime family bosses lost their heads… sometimes literally, yet he was the one who stuck around the longest. He was the youngest as well. It was when he got to the doors of the club that he realised he was actually parched. They had the club closed for a night because of him. He then figured that it was because the head of the crime family showed respect, as dingy as he was, to those he knew were more dangerous than him. To top it off he was greeted at the door as soon as he stepped in. He wasn't one for handshakes or affectionate gestures. Beretti was of Italian descent so the latter was inevitable. He gave the man a warning scowl and his outstretched hands fell to his sides. The Joker's eyes studied the interior when his eyes stopped at the barmaid. She was dressed appropriately for her line of work but the problem was she caught his full attention. He hadn't seen so much of her exposed skin and she looked a lot leaner than he remembered. He kept his eyes on her every move. Much like a cat with its eyes on a canary.   
"That girl, where did you find her?" He asked, his gaze not moving from her.   
"Who? (Your name)? We needed a new barmaid and she needed a new job." Angelo explained with a smirk, "She's a real peach that one. Around here she could get away with murder if she wanted to. Girl can handle her own... Why you ask?"   
"She's an acquaintance." He answered with a grin, his attention shifting back to the crime boss, "She helped me with a few dilemmas I've had in the most recent past."  
Angelo didn't seem pleased about that. Either he was jealous or the girl hadn't told him she had met him. Angelo led him to their table after confronting her about it. She seemed on edge when he spoke to her and the Joker didn't like that. Her response seemed to please, Angelo and they continued with business.   
"So, I'm told you need a mole in Belle Reve." The crime boss chided, "An insider that could get you, your guys and some of my guys into the penitentiary."  
"I do love Gotham!" The Joker said with a mass amount of enthusiasm, "Word travels around so fast I can hardly keep up. But yes, I do and I'd be willing to pay handsomely if I've got to."

He heard the clacking of heels against the stone floor and soon she was next to him. He caught the scent of that perfume he liked. There was a kind of heat that emitted from her. It coaxed a throaty growl from him and he grabbed her wrist before she could leave him. It took what little self-control he had to let her go and place a generous tip in her hand. She was frightened of him. He could see it in her eyes when he looked at her.   
After that, there was a strong pang in his chest that he couldn't shake off. He was excited by her fear. To be honest all feelings of fear or terror excited him no matter who it came from. He enjoyed what he did to others. His actions brought happiness to him on every occasion. Save for when his plans were thwarted by his nemesis or his rivals. Yet there was a sadness, however small it may have been when she hurried to get away from him. That made him mad. So mad that he'd forgotten why he was there in the first place. Until Angelo cleared his throat to gain his attention.   
"I could get you into Belle Reve Penitentiary easily." The crime boss assured him, "One of my guys' brother there and it's how we've made money from the prison. A new guard as dirty as the rest of us."   
The Joker was so pleased with what he heard that he ignored all previous emotions. He grinned and swallowed the drink in front of him in one gulp. Angelo did the same and gestured for the girl to bring another round. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as she approached and he shifted in his seat. He watched as she cleared the table and her eyes met his for the third time that night. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile and he placed another note on the tray before she could leave.   
Ha, that leaving.   
That leaving's got to stop.


	6. So, this is hell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suppose to put this chapter in a box I would say some shit hits a fan and things just spiral downwards.

You made it home with just over five hundred dollars. No thanks to the nightmare himself. Even though you watched him leave you could not shake the feeling of those baby blue eyes watching your every move. You could still feel the predator stalking his prey. Of course, Angelo and his goons would never have allowed him to pounce but you felt that he was the kind to fight dirty to get what he wanted. Still, the money didn't hurt and there was a large distance between the two of you. You had also moved apartments so there was no way he could know where you lived. The previous building you lived in was too far a walk from work so you moved a little farther into the hustle and bustle of the city. You also felt a lot safer in the newer area and your cat didn't roam. You had a friendly face to come home to and that was all you needed for the time being. You placed the money on the antique coffee table you'd picked up at a garage sale and made your way to the bedroom. (Insert female cat's name here) took up most of the space on the pillows as you flopped backwards onto the bed. It made her leap from her comfortable perch and scurry somewhere else and into the shadows. Your eyes were closed and you were on the verge of falling into a well-deserved sleep when that eerie feeling of being watched returned stronger than before. Your eyes fluttered open to a wide grin, red lips, silver teeth and green hair. He stood at the foot of the bed and held (cat's name) in his arms. 

"Well, hello there, kitten." He hummed, rubbing the cat's face against his own and mimicking her rough purr, "Nice place you got here. Much better than that other one."  
"What are you doing here?" You chided with an annoyed frown, "What do you want from me? Wait, you followed me home! What in the world is wrong with you?"  
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?" He chanted in three different tones, one angry, one shocked and one hurt, "There's nothing wrong with me! You see, kitten I'm the happiest I've ever been. Life has been good to me and I really wouldn't change a thing. Except for the choices I've made in Chinese takeout."   
"I'm not a kitten I have a Goddamn name." You growled in response, too tired to care that he could kill you without blinking twice, "This ‘kitten' thing has got to stop."  
"Ouch, this ‘kitten' has claws." He chimed in laughter.  
He almost threw the cat over his shoulder and stepped towards you with a dark expression on his face. It was neither malicious nor was it feverous. He reached his hand to your throat and his fingers twitched. His hand shook as though he hadn't eaten something in days. You were sure that he would end you then and there. Your heart began to race at the realisation of it. Yet the tips of his fingers stroked the delicate skin instead. You moved away from his touch as much as you could. You didn't like him touching you and he could see it. His chiselled jaw clenched and he retracted his hand as if he'd burnt himself. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness. 

You hadn't seen the Joker in two weeks but you had heard about him from both, Angelo and the newspapers. He managed to break, Harley Quinn out of Belle Reve Penitentiary. The Joker had his, Harley Quinn back and left you alone. You were grateful for the peace of his absence. Besides, you were too busy at the club to worry about a certain green-haired sociopath. You came to the conclusion that you were better without him in your life. You did not have to live in fear that he would crawl through your window and slit your throat in your sleep or worse. What pissed you off most was that (cat's name) walked with a heavy limp and refused to eat for days. She was in a lot of pain and it was because of him. It made you fantasise about all the ways you could return the favour.   
"If you scrub any harder you might wipe away the patterns of the marble." Angelo teased, with his drink in hand, "Is there something bothering you, angel? Has someone done something to you? I swear on my grand mamma's grave I'll have him bled out."  
You were flattered at his concern and ceased wiping down the bar and offered your drunk boss a warm smile. Something in the way he looked at you made you feel uneasy. His eyes were full of passion and it made you feel uncomfortable. He reached out his hand and brushed rogue strands of hair from your face. You bit the inside of your bottom lip in anxiety and he had read the indirect message wrong. He leant forward over the bar and pulled you into a sloppy kiss. You grabbed hold of his shoulders and shoved him away from you, making the drunk crime boss stumble backwards and break two stools from falling. His goons rushed to his aid and he ushered them away with a large variety of cuss words. He got to his feet and glared at you with a bleeding lip.   
"Get the fuck out my sight!" He shouted with an unearthly rage, "Get the fuck out! Come back and I'll have your head on a silver plate, I swear!"  
You fumbled with gathering your things and rushed out of the club with hundreds of surprised eyes on you. You had humiliated one of the most dangerous men in Gotham. You had also rejected his affections to top it off. You knew that something dark would happen. Angelo Beretti was not a forgiving man. Especially when he had been made a fool of in front of hundreds of club-goers. You rushed out of those doors with hot tears in your eyes. You could almost feel the blood in the water and the sharks were coming for you.   
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The next few events went by so fast that you could hardly keep up with it all. The rich scent of metal filled your nose as you woke. There was a painful throb at the back of your head. When you reached behind you to investigate the source you hissed as your fingertips felt a sensitive bump. Your sight was blurry regardless of how much you blinked. You rubbed at your eyes and felt a cool liquid cover your face. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you studied your hands. They were a mix of a (your skin tone) and a brick red smudge. You lifted your hands to your face once more and the smell of old blood filled your nose. You coughed from the sickening scent and tried to get to your feet. You slipped on a wet floor and grabbed onto a solid surface to steady yourself. You rubbed at your eyes to try and clear the grey fog that clouded your sight. After a few forced tears and repeated blinking your sight returned to normal. Although, you preferred the distorted sight to what surrounded you. There were three bodies that looked like they had been stabbed multiple times. A man, a woman and what must have been their daughter. You whimpered in shock and covered your nose from the smell of their rotting corpses. Sounds of saddened whimpers and heartbroken cries left your lips. 

You scanned your surroundings and found an exit. You slipped and skidded on their life fluid as you made your way out. You stumbled out of the apartment and into an open hall. It was a while before you found a woman in an expensive-looking coat. She was horrified at the sight of you as you begged her to help you. The look in her eyes said she was terrified of you. She hurried into her apartment and slammed the door in your face. You banged on her door to get her attention. You were desperate to find out where you were and what the hell happened. Yet there was no one who wanted to help you. Soon after there were two GCPD officers who entered the building and took hold of your arms to help you up. You had crouched into a ball next to her door and sobbed until there was no sound that emitted from you. They tried to calm you down and asked you what happened. When you managed to compose yourself enough you showed them the way to the apartment where you woke. They were just as horrified at the scene before them as you were. They told you to stay outside whilst they investigated. 

You didn't know how long they were in there but they came out with cuffs and disgusted looks on their faces. The one placed your hands behind you and cuffed your wrists. You could not understand why they were arresting you. They insisted that it was you who committed the murders. They took you to the precinct and threw question after question at you. Things like, ‘why'd you do it?' and ‘what kind of a sicko kills a defenceless child?' You sobbed for hours as you insisted that you didn't do it but neither one of them believed you. That you woke up and found them that way but the cops wouldn't have any of it. They threw you into a holding cell when you wouldn't cooperate with them. 

"Please!" You called out to them in coarse desperation, "Please, please you have to believe me! I didn't do it! I could never hurt a fly! Please! It wasn't me!"   
None of them listened to you. None of them gave you a second glance. Not one of them gave a shit about you.   
When your trial came you were ruled as insane. That your story did not correlate with the crime scene. Some specialist you couldn't care to remember the name of stated that you suffered from severe personality disorder. The jury held no sympathy for you as the picture of the gutted child was displayed for all to see. You continued to deny killing anyone and that you were possibly framed for murder. Still, your pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears and you were sentenced to life in Arkham Asylum. Somehow you knew that Angelo Beretti had something to do with it. That he did not want you dead because death would be too much of a kindness. The bus that transferred you from Black Gate to Arkham stopped at the entrance and a guard came to receive its newest inmate. Some papers were exchanged and signed like you were an object to be delivered. You kept your eyes cast downward as they ushered you out of the bus. You closed your eyes with every step and took a deep breath in. You tried your best to ignore the foul scents wafting burning your nostrils. You then opened your eyes, held your chin up high and walked with pride through the gates of hell.


	7. You're my Obesession.

Joker's POV

He had her where she should be. Harley Quinn was back to usual self as though nothing had happened. There seemed to be balance returned to his life. Yet he could not shake the nagging feeling that something was missing. He knew what that thing, or who that thing, was. He knew she wanted nothing to do with him so he would not waste his time chasing after someone who showed no interest in him. He tried to cave in to, Harley Quinn's constant advances but it didn't feel right to him and he kept hurting her. She was not the one he wanted but she continued to pursue him regardless of this fact. It became her role to assist him in forgetting the wild one who blatantly resisted and refused him. He remembered the girl's name and it rang in his ears as he fired firearm after firearm and he could see her face in the flames he created. He heard her voice in the silence before he fell asleep at, well, whenever he wanted to sleep. She was his sick obsession just as he was to Harley Quinn.   
He sat on the edge of his bed one night and clenched his fist. The tips of his fingers still remembered the feel of her delicate skin. The recollection brought a feverish growl to his lips. To him, she was his wild cat that could not be tamed. She was a thing of beauty and fascination to him. He wanted her close so that he could study her. He tilted his head as he wondered if she would be as ruthless a killer as her feline family. Would she toy with her prey before she did away with them? Would she have as much fun with it as they do? All those thoughts made him shudder with ecstasy. He had to have her at his side. She was the only one who could keep up with him on a philosophical level. He thought it an injustice that she wasted away in that club. He knew she could be so much more than a mere barmaid in a dingy club.   
Then he found out, through a goddamn newsstand, that she had been captured and sent to Black Gate with three counts of murder. His brow furrowed and he picked up one of the newspapers.   
MANIAC BUTCHERS FAMILY AND THEN DENIES IT.

He didn't like the headline. Such an obnoxious thing to say about someone they didn't understand. He thought it typical of the city to degrade her without a second thought. It was easier for them to judge than to understand the ‘why' behind it all.  
"Oh, yeah, boss." He said with an annoying wide-eyed look on his face and approached, "They say she went completely nuts and stabbed the entire family fourteen times each. She gutted the child and then the parents. The crazy bitch deserved what she got."  
"Oh, is that so?" The Joker responded with a forced smile, "Deserved what she got did she? Well, I suppose you do too then."  
With that, he pulled out the pistol with the word ‘kitten' engraved on the barrel of the gun and fired three shots to the head. People nearby stopped and stared in shock as he continued to read the article about her as though nothing happened. As much as he enjoyed the thought of her covered in blood and gore she just didn't seem the type of person to murder blindly. He thought she would be a little more calculated than that. He read that she would be sent to Arkham and serve a life sentence. It was pure daylight robbery and even a fool could have seen that none of the story added up. It was just easier to lock away a potential headache than to actually listen to what they have to say. The thought of his wildcat locked in a cage disgusted him. He was determined to set her free and he knew just how to do it. 

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They forced you to wear a stripped knee-length dress. It made you feel as though your individuality had been stripped from you like you did not deserve your own identity. You watched as the actual mentally ill roamed the open space that was the ‘rec room.' Some of them muttered to themselves and chuckled whilst others watched your every move. They would stare at you like something would happen and they would miss it if they blinked. You were there for two weeks and you hated it already. It smelled of moulding walls, poorly made food and uncleaned urinals. The outside didn't care about what happened to those who were locked away inside. Hell, you were one of those people. You thought the inmates of Arkham deserved how they were treated and the horrific living conditions they were in. You sighed as you made your way to the bay window and sat down with your knees pulled against your chest. One of the schizophrenics or one with borderline bipolar could off you in a heartbeat and none would know any wiser nor would they care. To them, you were a monster who killed happy families. You were nothing but another criminal who got more than you deserved. Not even the guards who were paid to keep you safe cared about what happened to you. They had it in their minds that bad things happened to worse people. You drew a smiley face on the fogged up window beside you and sighed as you thought that you had another twenty-five years to go. 

You were reading one of, Sylvia Plath's collections when the door to your cell opened and a bright-eyed man walked through the door. Something about those cobalt orbs and high cheekbones seemed familiar. Yet there was no pasty white skin, no silver teeth and no green hair in sight. Hell, there weren't even any tattoos. It could not have been the same man because the one that walked into your cell looked sane. He had a more approachable atmosphere about him and his smile was softer than the Joker's. He strode over to you with perfect posture and sat at the foot of your bed. He tilted his head and read the title of the book in your hands.   
"Winter Trees." He hummed out loud, "Are you a fan of, Sylvia? I can understand how you would relate to her."  
He had an odd British accent that you thought was a little theatrical and somewhat comical. You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing at his voice. Still, there was something familiar about the low and husky tones. Yet you couldn't quite put your finger on what that was. 

"Who are you?" You asked, your brow furrowed in amused confusion.   
"Ah, bloody hell, of course!" He chimed and held out his hand to you, "I am Doctor Oberon, Jack Sexton. Not the handsome murder-mystery author I'm afraid. I'm just a humble psychiatrist. I've had the pleasure of being assigned to you, little lady."  
You took the outstretched hand with reluctance. His grip was a bit too firm for you.   
"I'm not little and this place has stripped the lady right out of me." You murmured.   
"Oh dear," he crooned his hand still wrapped around your own, "we'll have to get her back. Won't we? You see, I can tell you and I are going to get along just fine."  
Dr Sexton visited you twice a week and his presence made your stay a little more bearable. A month had passed and it seemed as though time flew by when he was around. His sarcastic British sense of humour made you laugh more than it should have and his gentlemanly sent your heart aflutter. You looked forward to seeing him and he would bring you little trinkets or bonbons that you kept hidden in your cell. He seemed to understand how you were feeling and didn't feel as though he was forcing anything onto you. There was one visit that replayed in your mind for a long time. It must have been the third or fourth time you'd seen him.   
"Why don't you tell me about how it is you got in here?" The gorgeous doctor asked, "Forgive me, lass but it doesn't seem like you should be. You don't sound insane. In fact, you seem perfectly normal to me." 

"I worked for a dangerous man." You explained to him in confidence, "I should have known better than to tread dangerous waters. One night he got a little more out of hand than usual and made a move on me. I rejected his advances and pushed him away in a panic. I guess I don't know my own strength. After that, I woke up at the crime scene. You've got to, believe me, I was framed for those murders! I could never hurt an animal, let alone a family! I was framed by a crime boss with a bruised ego."  
"This crime boss, what was his name and what did he do to make a move on you?" Dr Sexton asked his expression the darkest you had only ever seen on someone else.   
"Angelo." You stammered, "His name is, Angelo Beretti. He put his hands on me and practically shoved his tongue down my throat."  
The furious gaze made you shift in your seat and you cast your eyes to the ground. You knew you would hate to anger the good doctor and the last thing you wanted was to piss him off further. You looked him in the eye and an all too familiar shiver slithered down your spine. The more you spoke the darker his gaze became.   
"Thank you."   
It was all he said before he left the room.


	8. Who do you want me to be?

You read in the shoddy library that the Joker hadn't wreaked havoc in a while. Most of the newspaper articles had news about, Penguin or, Harley Quinn and, The Riddler but nothing about him. You found that you were disappointed that there was nothing on him. No sick and twisted genocide or anything of the sort. As your eyes skimmed the words of an animal rescue add a presence hovered over you. You lifted your gaze from the paper and met the cobalt blue orbs of your handsome psychiatrist. The smile on his face was contagious and you offered a warm smile in return. He tilted his head and read what you were reading over your shoulder with a tilted head. He then sat at the opposite side of the table and folded his hands on the soft wood. 

"You like to read?" He asked his grin widening, "I was never one for literature myself but an intelligent woman is a threatening one. A woman who could outsmart a man could get away with anything she set her mind to if she so pleased."   
"I thought you weren't allowed to make contact outside of your office or the cell." You quipped, "How are you getting away with talking to an inmate in the library."  
"You aren't just any inmate and I have my methods of persuasion." He insisted matter-of-factly, his grin never faltering, "There's no one who can tell me what to do. I do what I want whenever I want to do it. There's nothing that would stop me."  
"You remind me a lot of someone else I know." You said with a laugh, "He thinks the same way you do. The difference between you and him is that he's a psychotic sociopath and you're a decent man."   
Dr Sexton's grin faltered and his eyes thinned into chilling slits. His hands twitched on the table and his jaw was clenched. You could have sworn that he ground his teeth together as though he was biting something back. He took in a deep breath and his smile slowly returned. However, the second time looked as though it was forced. The malice in his eyes did not disappear. In fact, that murderous gaze made you think of the Joker all the more. You hoped they had less in common than you thought. One of them was quiet enough for you.

"Can I ask the name of the mystery man you compare me to?" He asked with a hiss.   
"I don't really know what his name is but he's the most dangerous man in Gotham." You explained with a sigh, "He calls himself The Joker for obvious reasons. People think he's crazy but, to be honest, I don't think he is. I think he just enjoys hurting people and watching them suffer for the sheer fun of it. The concept of right and wrong is distorted because they believe what they're doing is ok. He knows what he's doing is wrong and sick but he does it anyway. Kind of like a kid squashing bugs for the hell of it."  
"I believe I know the story of this man you're talking about." He murmured, "His name was, Jack and he was married once. Yes, to a woman named, Alicia. Jack lost his job and had to find a way to support his pregnant wife. So, Jack got involved with gangsters who wanted to rob a chemical facility. It turns out that they set poor old, Jack up and he was in a bit of a pickle. The police and our dear Bat caught up with them. To escape them he ran as fast as he could but our dearest, Jack fell into a vat of the toxic chemicals. Let's just say he was never the same after that."  
The farther he got into the story the more your brow furrowed in confusion. You wondered how he knew the one thing very few people knew. His eyes got angrier and more resentful the more he spoke. The knuckles on his hands were white from how tight he held them together. To soften the atmosphere you placed one of your own hands on his and offered a warm smile. 

"How do you know all of this?" You crooned to soothe the furious beast.   
"You're not my first patient." He said through clenched teeth, "Jack is a very old friend of mine. He tells me that he's better as the man he is than the man he was. He says that life was good to him and honestly I cannot protest against his word."   
With that retracted his clenched grip from under your hand and got to his feet. That doctor was the one thing that made Arkham bearable and you'd be damned if you let him leave you on bad terms. His posture was stiff and his hands balled into fists. You had to leap from your seat and scurried to keep up with him. You reached out and grabbed one of his fists. You tugged at his arm to cease his angered march. He was forced to turn and face you. He opened his mouth to tell you to let go. You took it as an opportunity and stood on your toes, pulling him into a hard kiss. You broke it in fear and disappointment when you received nothing in return. You were worried that you had ruined what you had with the doctor. You stepped back with your eyes cast downward. Your heart raced when he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around your waist with his free hand at the back of your head. He brought his lips down onto yours with an intense passion. He kept you flush against his chest as his tongue slipped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You parted your lips and his hot tongue slid into your mouth. He moaned as his tongue ran against your teeth and savoured the taste of you. He tugged hard at your hair and moved from your lips to the nape of your exposed neck. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin there. His breath tickled delicate flesh and it drew a pleading whimper. He trailed kisses from the nape of your neck to your earlobe.   
"I'm getting you out of here." He purred into your ear, his voice coarse and raw from desire. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joker's POV  
Even long after his passionate embrace, he could still feel the heat of her body against his. He could still feel her quickened heartbeat against his lips. He still heard the sensational sounds she'd made when she liked something he did. He wanted so much more. He wanted to explore and discover his little kitten farther. He hated that she was kept from him. He was going to break her from her cage and set her free. He knew where every guard in Arkham was posted and remembered the location of every security camera. He ordered his goons to pose as much of a distraction as they could whilst he sought her out. He was anxious as the vans reached Arkham gates and climbed out of the back of one and snuck into the grounds. He watched with a satisfied grin as his men pooled out of the vans and fired their machine guns freely. He bolted into the panicked Asylum and navigated his way to her cell. There were frightened inmates and even worse guards running around him. He laughed at the amount of chaos he created in just one building. He found her cell and pounded on the door.  
A terrified woman answered the door and rushed into his arms once she knew it was him. He held her like that for a short while before taking her hand and dragging her behind him. 

"We have to get you out of here, it isn't safe." He urged, "They're breaking someone out."   
She nodded and followed behind him like a good kitten. He led her through the abandoned passages as the war waged on behind them. Her grip on his hand tightened as they heard the sound of gunshots and manic screams draw near. He ushered her through narrow pathways and dark passages until they were out in the open. It had begun to rain and they were soaked to the bone by the time they made it passed the damaged gates. He made her follow behind until they were at least five blocks away. He pulled her into an alley to catch her breath. He swallowed thickly at the sight of his drenched wild cat. The way her clothing clung to her skin stirred up those emotions again. However, he hadn't expected the resentful look in her eye as her gaze shifted from the floor to him.   
"You said. That they. Were breaking someone. Out." She said between gasps for air, "The only inmate. That managed to escape. Was me."   
He watched as it all came together for her. He saw how his plan played in her head from the beginning by the look in her eyes. How he'd posed as a psychiatrist in order to suss out the facility and its major flaws. He knew that there would be no point in hiding anymore from her.   
"My, my you are clever, kitten." He crooned, "There's nothing that gets passed you."

"You lied to me. You took advantage of me. You used me for your own gain." She seethed through clenched teeth, "You led me to believe that you were someone else but you're not. You're still the same, sick and twisted psychopath you were when I met you. I suppose it's not just your fault. I didn't listen to all the obvious warning signs. Maybe I was wrong. You are crazy and if you come anywhere near me or touch me again I will end you. Heaven forbids I will try."   
He stared after her long after she left him. She was the one thing that stole whatever sliver was left of his heart. Not that there was much left to give. Hell, it shocked him that there even was something to give. Yet she wanted nothing to do with him. He went to great lengths to set her free and she didn't love him. His hands began to twitch as the realisation came to him. His head began to spin as a wave of loathing washed over him. The once he let himself fall in love again and she betrayed him. The dark thoughts that clouded his mind could not save her after that. He reached for the pistol he had stolen from her and may his way into the open streets. He laid waste to anyone, or anything, that passed him be it man, woman or child. He shot them all and didn't feel a thing. She had taken his ability to feel anything with her.


	9. I'm your possession.

You had snuck into your old apartment. Someone else had already moved into it. You rolled your eyes at the landlord who didn't waste any time replacing you. Your cat was nowhere to be seen and neither was any of your stuff. Your heart galloped as you searched for the second pistol you took with you from Belle Reve. You spot the familiar duffle bag near the trash with some of the rest of your things. You had half a mind to empty a bullet into the new tenant's head. Yet you were bigger than that and drew a dick on their forehead with a permanent black marker. Once satisfied with your art you head to the last place anyone thought to look for you. It was a wild card but it was the only choice you had other than living off the streets. There was no telling what would happen to you. When you walked the streets you felt a little more paranoid than usual. Police vehicles sped past you and it made you jump every time. You expected one of them to recognise your face and double back to make sure. You were glad your destination was just a few blocks away from where you lived. It was a huge stretch but it was possible that Angelo could have gotten over your ordeal. After all, you'd suffered well enough and lived through it. 

You made your way into the club with the hood of your jacket over your face. You had the loaded pistol in your pocket in case your plan turned sour. You skulked your way to the boss and sat at the opposite end of his favoured table. The man's attention snapped in your direction and he frowned in confusion. You removed the gun from your pocket and pointed it at him from under the table.   
"Is there something I can help you with, miss?" He asked, a little annoyed.   
"Yes, there's a few things, actually." You murmured, removing the hood.  
Once he saw who you were his frown transformed into a scowl and he opened his mouth to order around his hired goons.   
"I wouldn't do that." You warned, your eyes falling beneath the table and back to him, "You'd be in excruciating pain and probably bleed out before you could finish the order. So I suggest you just shut your fucking mouth and listen."  
He looked under the table and his eyes widened as you clicked off the safety. You had the gun pointed between his legs. He saw that something in your eyes dared him to test you. That, whilst in Arkham, you had developed an intolerance for bullshit and could end him without a second thought. 

"Sure, what is it you needed?" He asked, a little more careful with how he treated you.   
"You stole my life from me because your inflated ego was a little bruised." You answered with a hiss, "All because you learned I wasn't just some easy bimbo the hard way. Well, I suggest you help me get it back or the precious gems between your legs are shot and inverted."  
"Ha! No wonder that crazed lunatic has it bad for you." He chided, "You're just as arrogant and insane as he is! Well, your boyfriend came to me a few days ago. Damn near killed or tortured all my best men. He said you'd come here so I made a deal with him. I'll fetch it for you but you get the fuck out after that."  
He got to his feet and disappeared into his office. His new men watched you like a hawk but it did not intimidate you in the slightest way. You had also learned how to move quicker in the Asylum. How to use the fact that you're smaller to your advantage. Angelo returned with a package and a set of car keys. He put them on the table in front of you with a dark expression on his face.   
"If you ask me you ain't worth half the trouble that man went through just to save your pathetic ass." He grumbled through clenched teeth, "The car is in the back."  
The package was an excessively large amount of money. You took both money and the keys in hand. You offered the hostile man a forced smile and bid him goodbye. You then shot him between the legs and weaved your way through the club before they could register what had just happened. The plan was to shoot him in the head. You didn't specify which one. 

The car, Angelo spoke of was the Joker's purple Lamborghini. He was right about one thing. The man had gone through a lot of trouble just for you. An unexpected wave of guilt seeped over you as you climbed into the car. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars and a Lamborghini later. On the dashboard was an address written in his hand. You made a mental note of it and started up the car. It's sweet purr graced your ears as you sped out of the parking lot. Something inside you woke as you drove that amazing car. You had never seen a sport's car in person, let alone driven one through the streets of Gotham. You felt it was disrespectful to the car to drive slowly. You snickered as you skipped traffic lights and swerved at every corner. However, you reached your destination sooner than expected and the reckless drive came to an end. The building reminded you of a hotel meant for a B-list horror movie. Still, you got out of the car and pressed your finger against the buzzer until the doors opened. The interior was much different to the exterior. It was extravagant and made you feel as if you'd just walked into the forty's. A male's voice tore your attention from the vintage décor.   
"The boss isn't with you?" He asked as he descended the stairs with a frown.   
"Uh, no I lost him on the way here." You stammered in response, "Who are you?"  
"Bob." He stated with a very disappointed look on his face, "Still, boss man said I should look after you even if he didn't make it back. I intend to do just that. I'll get some dry clothes and have the maid make you something hot."  
As if your guilt could get any worse.

You'd read the news in the next several days that the Joker had gone off the charts. Witnesses stated that he looked and sounded as if he'd been possessed. He wailed and screamed as he shot and killed people. He covered some of them in acid and set some people alight afterwards. When the GCPD caught up with him he fought them like a wild animal being captured by animal control. There were pictures of what they did to him and it made you feel sick. To say they had beaten him to a pulp would put it kindly. However, there were some who looked like they had taken more of a beating from him as well. They had him looked up tight in a padded cell at Arkham and the security there had been tripled. There had been a rescue attempt by, Harley Quinn but her efforts were futile. It made you think about how he was doing on his own. None of your answers had positive outcomes. You had a feeling that all his actions were because of you. How you had threatened to kill him after all he did to get you out of Arkham. There was a twisted irony to it all. The article had a picture of him as his alias, Oberon Jack Sexton. His face reminded you of the intimate encounter in the library. The tips of your fingers found where he had left his mark on you. It had disappeared but still had an effect on you. The more you thought about it the more you wanted him there. He was wild and he was terrifying. He was toxic and the definition of pure evil. He had the mind of a sociopathic serial killer who wanted nothing more than to watch the world burn. Still, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself that he was nothing but darkness there was a yearning inside you that completely ignored all logic. You would never be, Harley Quinn. You had your own style. A cool, calm and calculated kind of crazy. The mad genius to his impulsive recklessness. Your lips curled into a smile at the thought. 

That night you had, Bob take you to the Joker's Club. The two of you spoke for hours and came to the conclusion that it was only right for you to pay him a visit in Arkham. The day after that, Bob dropped you off at the gates and watched as you walked by the guards with ease. You dressed yourself into a disguise that rendered you unrecognisable to the untrained eye but not to him. You were in an expensive coat and strappy heels that made your legs look a lot longer. You smiled at the wardens and asked to see the Joker. When they gave you curious looks you stated that you were just a budding journalist. That you thought it would be better to get the information you needed from the monster himself. It was against the rules for them to let the press within their walls and they'd rather not let a civilian anywhere near the Joker. They proceeded to call you crazy but they admired your determination and allowed you no more than fifteen minutes with him. They led you down to the most secured cell you had ever seen and opened the door to it for you.

He sat in the far corner of the cell with a straight jacket. He was battered and bruised. The cuts on his skin looked angry and the dark bruises even more so. He turned his attention to the opening door and watched as you walked through. His eyes did not leave you as you approached and his expression did not change.   
"(Your name.)" He murmured with a forced grin, "To what do I owe this displeasure? Come to keep your word have you? Well then, aren't you lucky I'm in this tight little hugme jacket?"   
"You look terrible." You stated with a nervous laugh.  
That made him get to his feet with great difficulty and approached you. You knew he could still hurt you fatally with or without the straight jacket. He did not stop until he towered over you and his face was just a few inches away from yours.   
"I've been through a lot worse, kitten." He crooned, "There must be a reason you're here. Nothing unexpected ever happens without a reason."   
It was your turn to grin from ear to ear and your hand snaked to the back of his neck. You slithered up his body and traced you lips beside his ear.  
"I'm getting you out of here." You purred.  
After that, there were sounds of gunshots and heavy coughing. Once again there were the frightened screams of the inmates as well as the doctors. Your hands moved behind him and undid the binds of the straight jacket. Before you could blink he had removed the pistol strapped to your thigh and pressed it against your forehead. You swallowed hard but your eyes did not leave his. You were sure he would pull the trigger by the furious look in his eye. The sounds of shouting and gunshots neared the door as the two of you stood there. Nothing stopped him from adding red to the white padded walls of his cell. You knew he wouldn't think twice. Yet, even as you stared death directly in the face, you would not cave in to fear. You would be defiant and challenging until the very end. There was a rumbling sound coming from him and it threw you off for a second. Wait, he was purring.   
"You're mine, kitten." He hummed and wrapped an arm around your waist.   
One of the guards burst into the cell and threatened to shoot if he did not let you go.   
The Joker held up the pistol and shot the guard as he pressed his ruby red lips against yours with a feverous hunger.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I did my best. I don't even know how good I am at writing I just love doing it so, I hope those who read this actually like it.


End file.
